


Inevitable

by GreyMichaela, Miniatures



Series: Souls [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, Frottage, M/M, Wall Sex, mystery spot happens, oh yeah and smut, so much angst you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel can't stop his Father's plan, but maybe he can tweak it some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

 

> _I never meant to be so bad to you_
> 
> _One thing I said that I would never do_
> 
> _A look from you and I would fall from grace_
> 
> _And that would wipe the smile right from my face_
> 
> \- [Asia](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAL4NtUhw7Y)

 

He did it to teach Sam a lesson. He did it to ease him through the pain of losing a brother. Because he wanted Sam to stop driving himself mad trying to stop it. Because he needed Sam to understand what it was like. To understand why it was inevitable. To _understand._

It also didn’t hurt that it was hilarious. But that was beside the point.

The town was almost perfect on its own, but Gabriel still had to tweak a few variables. Make sure people were where they were supposed to be, properly place each catalytic personality, each faulty wire and errant bone and badly constructed shower. Pick an ironically apt background song whose lyrics could do the apologizing for him. Once all the elements of a good disaster were in place, all he had to do was stand back and watch Sam’s life fall apart.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Gabriel had tried, after Crawford Hall, to forget about Sam. To leave him be, let him go, bury himself in some private corner of the world until Armageddon. Then Azazel had pitted his bloodsullied children against each other—Gabriel hadn’t thought much of it. The only one in Hell who knew that Sam’s fate as the vessel was sealed was Lucifer, and Lucifer was chained up tight. His petty underlings had no choice but to go through the paces and figure it out themselves.

Then Sam had died. Stabbed in the spine, slipped away in his brother’s arms. Blood spilling to mix with mud and gravel as if he were just another casualty of war. Gabriel had felt it as he had felt the deaths of every body his soul had worn—a tremor in his Grace, a hollow swell inside his heart.

Sam had reached out to him, not knowing who he really was. Sam had craved him, Sam had wanted him, Sam had kissed him first. And Gabriel let him die, because he had thought he knew what was coming, because he knew he couldn’t face it.

But Dean brought him back. Dean broke the rules and brought him back to life. As much as Gabriel was loath to admit that Dean Winchester—or Stabby McGee, as he’d taken to calling him in moments of bitterness—had helped him towards an epiphany, that was the moment he _knew._ His Father’s endgame may have been immutable, but the path to it could be twisted. So the world had to end one day. Maybe Gabriel could change the date.

If Michael’s vessel went to Hell and stayed there, there would be no Apocalypse. If Gabriel could keep Sam from bringing his brother back, keep him from turning against Lilith, then Lucifer would stay in his cage. Both of them would lose their brothers for good, but Sam would be free. From Heaven, from Hell, from burning out and breaking the world. And Gabriel could do one good thing for the soul he’d never been able to save. 

The only catch was that Sam didn’t _get it._

Dean had died thirty times already, and Sam was still fighting for him. He had come to the conclusion that keeping Dean alive would get him out of the loop, had yet to clue in that he had to _accept_ it before he could leave. He was making it hurt far more than it had to. Drawing it out longer than it needed to be.

For an immortal, Gabriel was incredibly impatient. (He blamed his pagan influence.) So on the thirty-first Tuesday he grabbed the strawberry syrup.

Sam cornered him the next day, a stake pressed up against his throat.

“We’ve killed one of your kind before,” he snarled, and Gabriel’s heart ached. The shit-eating grin he wore as he peeled away his disguise was pure plaster, and he was proud of keeping it up even as recognition dawned in Sam’s eyes, as a flicker of relief flared into pain and fury and Gabriel knew he’d lost him for good. He wouldn’t be forgiven.

“Actually, bucko? You didn’t.”

He kept his tone light as he explained that this was Sam’s puzzle to solve. Tried to prod him in the right direction without giving the game away.

“So you played dead for what, just to fuck with us? And this is your revenge?”

 _No._ “Yup!”

“And what happened before…” Sam murmured, gaze flickering over to Dean, who was watching their confrontation completely dumbstruck. “It was nothing, huh?”

Gabriel almost wanted to pretend he didn’t know what _it_ was. But Sam’s brows were drawn up, and his eyes were pleading, and he couldn’t fucking do it.

“No,” he said, almost too quiet to be heard. “It wasn’t nothing.”

“Then _why?”_

Gabriel met his eye. Tried to make him understand best he could with just a look, to understand that it didn’t matter how they felt about each other, that their pull just didn’t matter in the face of the rest of his Father’s plans. What Gabriel wanted, what Sam wanted, those were just footnotes, appendices—with or without them, the story would continue as written. That bigger thing would always win.

He watched Sam’s expression fall, then grow stony.

“Fine,” he choked out, and drove the stake into the archangel’s chest.

Sam didn’t remember any of it the next day. Gabriel made sure of that.

—

The fifth time he revealed himself he immediately teleported Sam away from Dean. He hoped things might play out differently that way. The presence of the elder Winchester forced Gabriel to keep his hackles up, to play his part and posture in a way he didn’t have to when alone with Sam. Sam had already seen him with his walls about as down as they could go.

He explained again, and in gentler terms.

Again, there was anger. There was hate and hurt spitting fire from green eyes and Sam’s jaw twitched, neck bobbed as if he were swallowing back a storm. When he spoke, he spat lightning.

“And that night,” he began, and Gabriel braced himself for the one question that Sam had asked every time he’d tried this. “It was nothing, huh?”

With Dean gone, Gabriel could give a better answer. “It was everything, Sam.”

Sam breathed deep, settled stonejawed with soft eyes.

The angel went on. “You said you wanted it. So did I. But, well, that’s all we get—one-time deal, kiddo. Now we gotta think big picture.”

“So killing Dean, that’s big picture? Bullshit.”

“This is _so_ not about killing Dean. Dean’s already dead. Might as well start the obit now. This,” he waved his arms, “whole stunt is for _you_ , Sam.”

“For me?” Sam took a long step towards him. “What’re you talking about? Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“Because you need to understand. I—”

Dean found them then, and stabbed him with the stake Sam had dropped when the archangel had whisked him away.

—

Gabriel gave up for a while, decided to sit back and play his part and let Sam work it out for himself. It didn’t work.

He preferred the strawberry syrup anyways.

—

“It was nothing, huh?”

He was starting to get sick of answering that question.

“No. It was just shit timing.”

“No. I wanted to, but I couldn’t stay.”

“I couldn’t put you in that position, Sam.”

“It wasn’t nothing, it wasn’t nothing, I promise you that.”

“I wanted to explain everything then, but I—”

“I wanted to come back after, but—”

“I wanted you too much—”

“I wanted—”

“Does it matter?”

 _That_ one got a reaction. Sam’s brows drew together, his hands twitching at his sides.

“What, I—of _course_ it matters! We…” he trailed off, swallowed visibly. “That’s not the sort of thing I do, y’know. Normally.”

“Hook up with monsters?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I sure hope not.”

“Well, actually—fuck, that’s not important right now.” He glanced up, and he looked so lost and hurt the archangel wanted to cry. “I mean I don’t usually get that _close._ I just… I thought I… I thought there was something...”

Sam trailed off, let his gaze fall to his feet. Gabriel sighed, took a step forward.

“There was,” he said. Sam’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

This time there was no questioning who initiated. Gabriel grabbed Sam’s face in his hands and kissed him hard.

It was rougher this time, angrier. Both of them desperate to reclaim the other with fingers and teeth. Sam’s mouth trailed down to his throat, nipping and sucking the tender skin beneath his jaw. Gabriel threw his head back and moaned, palming the back of the taller man’s neck and tangling his fingers in his hair. He shoved his hips against Sam’s thigh, a slow grind that the hunter answered gladly.

Sam's hands flew to Gabriel's shirt, managing the first few buttons before he lost patience and _tore._ The seams split with a muffled rip, buttons skittered against concrete, and then Sam pushed the remains of the shirt down Gabriel’s arms and off.

Angelflesh pebbled in the cool room, but Sam didn't give him time to react.  He was already pulling on Gabriel's belt, hauling it free and shoving his pants down. Gabriel could have snapped himself out of his clothes, could have taken them somewhere with a soft bed and clean sheets, but he wasn’t going to. He wanted to give Sam this, this moment of control. He’d earned the right to take what he wanted from Gabriel, to use him up and leave him aching.

His mind was a blur, and Sam was wild and hot against his bare flesh, bruising and biting and running his tongue over the marks he'd made. Gabriel reached for Sam's shirt, pulling it over his head before turning to his jeans.  The hunter was too busy sucking a yellow bloom into Gabriel's neck to help, but Gabriel persisted until Sam stepped out of the pants, picked him up, pulled Gabriel's legs around his waist and stumbled forward until he slammed hard against the wall.

Gabriel let out a gasp, a soft groan, as Sam's hands ran up under his thighs. A finger brushed against his furled hole and the angel's breath hitched.         

He was lost in Sam's mouth and hands as they mapped rough paths across his skin, but he retained just enough brainpower to reach through the dimensions and _pull_ , dropping a small bottle of lube in the hunter’s palm.

Sam pulled away slightly, mouth twitching.

“Come on," Gabriel demanded. "Do it."          

Sam raised an eyebrow, dove back into another hard kiss. He bit, sucked at Gabriel's lip, his hands busy elsewhere, and then cold, wet fingers were nudging at the angel's asshole.

He was so hard he ached, flushed and leaking. The hunter pressed him harder into the wall and pushed his first finger inside. Gabriel let his head fall back, swore through clenched teeth. Sam pulled out and added a second finger, working them in and out in a crude rhythm. Gabriel’s thighs were already shaking as he began, almost involuntarily, to ride Sam's fingers. A third slipped in, and he let out a long and filthy whine.  

Sam's teeth grazed the skin on his neck and he brought his thigh up to brace Gabriel in position as he reached between them, grasping the angel’s length and giving it several rough jerks.

"Fuck, Sammy, M'close…"     

"Don't fucking call me that.”

Gabriel swallowed hard.  "Now," he choked. "Fuck me now."          

Sam removed his fingers, and Gabriel shuddered at the cold, the sudden aching _lack_ there.

But Sam didn't immediately replace his hand and Gabriel looked up. "What are you waiting for?"     

"You're not ready," Sam said. He made to move his fingers back but the archangel caught him by the wrist, held him still.

"Dammit, Sam,I said _do it!”_

Sam bit his lip. Then his gaze went steely. He moved fast, and then the blunt head of his cock was pressing against Gabriel's opening, and it _hurt,_ oh it hurt, but Gabriel closed his eyes and welcomed the burn and stretch.  He deserved this. Whatever Sam saw fit to throw at his feet, he deserved it.

Sam's breath was hot against Gabriel's throat, coming in short, sharp gusts as he forced his way inside.  Pressed up against the wall, Gabriel had no leverage, could do nothing other than cling to Sam's shoulders, lost to the sensations burning through him.

Sam moved fast, hips snapping quick and dirty and rough. Gabriel tried to reach down, to wrap his fingers around his own length, but Sam slapped his hand away. The archangel groaned, his own hips canting so that the head of Sam's cock was dragging over his prostate with every thrust.

"Close," he breathed.

Sam's movements became more erratic—Gabriel could feel his legs trembling, his abs tightening, and fuck it, neither of them were going to last much longer. Lightning gathered at the base of his spine, pooled in his belly as Sam drove in again and again, growling deep and low.

Then Sam sank his teeth into the meat of Gabriel's shoulder. Gabriel gasped and stiffened, coming untouched in hot throbs. Sam shoved in one last time and froze, a desperate groan ripping from him as he emptied deep inside Gabriel's body.  

The bite faded into a sloppy mouthing against Gabriel's skin, and Sam was clinging to him, tight and desperate as he rode out his orgasm. He began nosing his way up the angel's throat, and oh, this was too gentle.

Gabriel closed his eyes. He allowed them until the count of ten—gave them each that moment to stay trembling in the other’s arms before he sucked in a sharp breath and reset the day.

—

“It was nothing, huh?”

 _Just once._ “Sam, I’ve loved you since the stars were born.”

—

It was inevitable, like thunder after lightning. Sam would never stop fighting for Dean, not so long as he believed he had a chance to save him. So Gabriel played Trickster, let Sam hate him, let him threaten him into submission. Made sure Dean was in the wrong place at the right time.

Sam found him, of course. The archangel had known he wouldn’t stop, that even half a year later he wouldn’t be able to let go of his brother. And Gabriel gave him back. Because he could twist the path all he liked, but he couldn’t escape the ending. Because he was tired, and the Winchesters were ridiculous. Because he couldn’t stand the pain in Sam’s eyes as he begged.

The song was picked to be a joke, an apology. Now it stood as the only confession Sam would remember, and Gabriel could only hope he heard it.

**Author's Note:**

> That lovely piece of pornography you just read comes to you from me feat. GreyMichaela (or more accurately GreyMichaela feat. me)! THANK YOU SO MUCH, darling, for I am woefully smut-impaired. 
> 
> Also: that link at the beginning will take you to a sad acoustic version of "Heat of the Moment" and I'M NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING
> 
> Also also: I highly doubt you'll ever see Gabe tell Sam he loves him (in so many words) again in one of my canon fics. AU, maybe. So bask in it. Bask in all its miserable glory. EDIT: I have since amended my stance on this. But still bask, because it's miserable.


End file.
